


Love Survives

by thetravelerinatrenchcoat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Here Lies the Abyss, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6299809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetravelerinatrenchcoat/pseuds/thetravelerinatrenchcoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after fleeing the chaos in Kirkwall, Hawke is still is hiding from the might of the Chantry and the Mage Rebellion. With the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes and the reemergence of Corphyeous, Hawke has gone even deeper into hiding. She fears what will become of her and her friends. Recently, a letter from Varric has arrived to beg for her help in the fight against the ancient magister. She is torn between helping Varric and staying with Fenris. He would die for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Survives

The room was dark. The air was still and tranquil. The stale scent of burnt candles filled the atmosphere, and the small bedroom was dead silent, except for the distant sound of a patrolling guardsmen clanking amour. The bedroom took up a small square room, with dusty hardwood floor and rustic maroon walls. The room was sparsely decorated containing only a simple wooden writing desk that was covered in crumpled old letters, a short bookshelf, and a plain queen-sized bed with rough linen sheets and an old wool quilt. It was a far cry from the luxurious home of the Hightown nobles in Kirkwall. A single black silk banner that was emblazoned with the Amell family crest hung on the wall and was the only reminder of the owner’s former life as a noble in Kirkwall.

Asleep in the bed were two slim figures that were buried underneath the heavy blankets and quilt. The muffled rustling of blankets broke the peaceful air of silence. Slowly one of the figures started to move and break out from beneath the warm layers of cloth. She propped herself up on her elbows, as she reached out toward a candle resting on the nearby night table. Once she found the candlewick, she summoned up a small bit of magical energy. Her hand tingled and a tiny flame sparked to life on the tip of her index finger. She used the tiny spark to light the candle, before snuffing it out with a shake of her hand. The blazing candle cast long dancing shadows on the floor and walls. The candlelight illuminated her face in its soft orange glow.  

The tired mage was a tall young woman, with a light toned frame covered in light muscles from years spent on the run and fighting. Her appearance was striking in the subtle light of the candle with her signature pale Ferelden skin, oval jawline, soft features, and full pink lips. Her rounded deep blue eyes studied the room carefully. Her face was framed by a mess of ebony wavy tresses that stopped just short of her shoulders. Absent was the usual swath of blood red paint that marked the bridge of her nose. She was dressed in nothing, but an old ragged tunic and a pair of wool socks. The mage’s name was Hawke, or better known as the disgraced Champion of Kirkwall, the starter of the Mage Rebellion that now raged throughout Thedas. It had been almost four years since the Kirkwall Chantry had been destroyed, and the Mage Rebellion had officially begun. Hawke had spent the last four years moving around from place to place to stay one step ahead of the Seekers. She had lived everywhere from Orlais to Ferelden to Antiva. She had even lived in Tevinter for a short period, much to Fenris’s disgust.  

She turned around gently to look over at her sleeping bedfellow, Fenris. Hawke smiled, as she looked down at him. He looked handsome in the faint flickering candlelight with his strong jawline, and big soulful eyes. His pale lyrium tattoos seemed to sparkle faintly in the candle light, contrasting the dark tan hue of his skin. The silver band lined throat in jutting lines, snaked down his collar bond, and fanned out across his chest and back finishing by swirling down his limbs. His pale snowy hair was spread out over his pillow in a sea of white locks. She was glad that she had convinced him to grow his hair out a while back. The look suited him. Hawke ran her finger tenderly along the edge of his sharp pointed ear and down his jaw. “Hawke,” he moaned softly in his sleep, making her grin. He was clad in nothing aside from a loose pair of brown trousers. His arm was still firmly wrapped around her waist, and his fingers clung to the fabric of her night shirt.  

They had been travelling together for the past couple years. After she fled Kirkwall, Hawke had distanced herself from her friends as much it hurt too leave them. At the time it had seemed like the best thing to keep them safe. She had met up with Fenris again during her time in Tevinter. She found him fighting a group of slavers and liberating captured refugees that had been fleeing the chaos in Kirkwall. He convinced her to stay with him after that. Since that day, he had hardly left her side and never let her travel too far without him. Hawke knew that he was afraid of her abandoning him again. With a gentle sigh, she moved Fenris’s arm and slung her legs over the side of the bed, careful not to wake him. She moved the blankets aside and stood up. Hawke padded across the cold floor walking over to her writing desk. She rummaged through the piles of papers and letter until she found what she was looking for.

The letter had been on fine elegant parchment and had been closed with a formal wax seal. She recognized it as the sign of the newly formed Inquisition. She unfolded the letter and skimmed over it with her eyes. It was written in a familiar cursive black script. Her eyes drifted to the bottom of the letter. It was signed, _“Varric Tatheras.”_ She frowned. Hawke missed the tiny sly dwarf with his stories, his enchanted crossbow, and low cut tunics. The letter was a plea for help in a war against the Red Templars and to defeat an ancient magister, an enemy that Hawke had fought once before. Varric wanted her to come to Skyhold to meet with Inquisitor Adaar and help. She wanted to help close the Breach and see Varric again, but she was reluctant to leave Fenris. If she told him, he would want to come and try to protect her. He would die for her, and Hawke was not willing to risk his life.

She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. She grabbed her quill and a scrap of paper. Then, Hawke wrote a short note to Fenris explaining that she was leaving and that he shouldn’t try to follow her. After signing the note, she placed it on the nightstand. Hawke then started to pack up her armor and get dressed. She put on a clean pair of black trousers and a gray tunic. She sat down on the bed to put on and lace up her boots, when there was a quiet groggy groan and Fenris started to stir. Hawke froze and all the color vanished from her face. She refused to turn around and face him.  

“Hawke?” he moaned, in his usual deep smooth voice that was heavy with sleep. “Wh-at are...you do-ing?” He propped himself up on his arm, and he scooted closer to her. The sheets ruffled as he moved. The wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her into his chest. She could feel his warm breath on her neck. Then, he started to pepper her cool neck with a series of tender kisses. His lips moved across her skin with grace and finesse. To driver her absolutely mad, he would let his lips linger on her skin while he slipped his fingers under her tunic and ghosted his fingers over her rib cage. Her eyes fluttered, and she released a breathy groan. She bit her bottom lip, leaning back into his chest. Fenris smiled against her skin and held her close. He took his other hand ran it down her spine, making her shiver. She groaned. “Come back to bed, Hawke,” he whispered in her ear, before kissing the shell of her ear. It took all of her strength to not give in to him. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and her whole body was telling her to just give into his advances.

“Fenris, I can’t,” she managed to spit out, in between drawn out groans. This caused him to pause. He went quiet. He shuffled around Hawke, so he was next to her on the edge of the bed. He stared at her with a hurt confused look in his big green eyes that she so adored. It hurt to even look at him like that. Normally, he was so stern, and confident. It made Hawke’s heart sink to her stomach. She ached for the warmth of tender touch and kisses.

“Why?” he asked, scanning her face. She stared down at her hands. Fenris reached out and cradled her cheek in his hand, bringing her face up to look at him. “Hawke, please. Tell me.... what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Fenris. I’m fine,” she assured him trying to smile. He seemed unconvinced, raising a dark eyebrow.

“Then, where are you going? It’s the middle of the night,” he questioned, with his eyes started to water. She frowned, and she forced herself to spit out a response.

“I got a letter. Someone needs my help with something. I won’t be gone too long. I swear,” she answered. He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s the middle of the night. Can’t you can wait until morning?” he argued.

“No, it’s urgent. I need to leave now,” she countered, beginning to feel sick.

“If it's urgent, then take me with you,” he suggested, still holding her face. She shook her head, breaking from his grasp.

“No, it's too dangerous,” she snapped back without a second thought. He recoiled at her harsh tone.

“Hawke, you need me. I _can’t_ lose you for the second time,” argued Fenris narrowing his eyes.

“I know, but I need to do this _alone_. I don’t want to risk losing you,” explained Hawke, not looking him in the eye. His gaze softened.

“Hawk-” he began, before she cut him off abruptly.

“I’m sorry for this,” she said sounding broken, as she reached out and placed her hands on either side of her head. She summoned magic, and her hands started to hum with power. His eyes widened as he realized what she was about to do. He clutched her arm, and looked her dead in the eyes, like he was telling her to stop please. He was about to open his mouth to speak and his fingers tighten around her arm, when she cast her spell. “Sleep,” she whispered in tongues. Then, Fenris’s eyes slouched shut and his whole body when limp in her arms. He slumped forward and fell on top of her crushing her against the mattress. His breathing was soft and calm. She even heard him snoring softly. She pushed his limp body off of her. She carefully tucked him back underneath the blankets and laid his head down on a pillow.

“Hawke,” he called in his sleep, as she climbed out of their bed. She stared down at his sleeping face for a long moment. She sweep some stray hair out of his face and placed a final soft kiss to his lips, before standing up. She picked up her bag off the floor and walked over to the door. Before leaving the bedroom, she stole a final look at Fenris.

“Bye, Fenris,” she said, as she shut their bedroom door behind her and leaving.

~Several Months Later~

About a month had passed since the battle at the Grey Warden fortress of Adamant in the Western Approach, and Hawke was still recovering from the last of her wounds at the Inquisition's stronghold of Skyhold. Inquisitor Adaar had given Hawke permission to remain at Skyhold until she had recovered fully. She spent most of her time walking around the gardens and ancient halls of the old fortress. She also hung out with Varric a lot of playing Wicked Graces and listening to him recount some of his usual wild tales. His stories helped to brighten her mood and keep her thoughts away from Fenris. When she wasn’t wandering or with Varric, she’d hide up in one of the guard towers with a beautiful enchanting view of the Frostbacks. She would also occasionally drink with the magister Dorian Pavus exchanging tales of magic and court intrigue. It was nice to talk to another person who was exiled from their homeland.

On one calm morning, Hawke sat on a bench in Skyhold’s large garden courtyard drinking from her leather flask and watching the residents of Skyhold run through the garden on their morning routine. Skyhold’s courtyard was a large rectangular area that was dotted with flowers, shrubs, and towering oak trees reaching up toward the sky. The entire garden was surrounded by a covered stone walkway that led up to some higher levels of the fortress and a select few small rooms off the garden, such as seed storage or a tiny Andrastian chapel. In the center of the garden was a tall stone brick pavilion with a red shingle roof. The air was pleasantly warm despite the chill of the Frostbacks. The billowing sound of the powerful north wind brisling through the leafy canopy was intertwined with the constant soft chatter of servants, Chantry sisters, and early-rising nobles. The whole place had a calming serenity to it. It was drastically different from the constantly raging battle that was Hawke’s life. She had been to hell and back and survived, quite literally. “These were strange times, indeed,” she mused.  

She rested her head back against the wall sighing and downing another swig of wine. Ever since, she got back from the Fade everything had felt different. The burn of magic under her skin and in her veins now felt wild and unhinged. Casting now felt simple and effortless. She didn’t even have to think about a spell to cast it anymore. There were no words or invoking’s. She could just think about the magic to make it happen. Her spells had doubled her strength and potency. Fenris would be disgusted.

Hawke had been thinking about sending the broody elf a letter to tell him that she was alive, but she never got around to actually writing one. She always thought up an excuse to not write it promising herself that she would just do it later. Varric kept telling her that she should send him a letter, again she didn’t listen. She already knew that Varric had seen him a message on her whereabouts. She had overheard his conversation with the Inquisitor. He occupied her thoughts almost constantly. She thought about how angry he must be with her for leaving him without explanation. Leaving him was the hardest thing that she had ever done. Harder than fighting the Arishok. Harder than killing the First Enchanter, and harder than leaving Kirkwall, her adopted home. She felt guilty over not giving him a reason and running away in the dead of night. The former champion closed her eyes and rubbed her temples groaning at her own cowardice. Her eyes shot open when she heard loud shouts coming from across the courtyard. She recognized the voices instantly. Hawke sat up to get a better view.

“Call down, Broody,” shouted Varric frantically, without the usual humorous lilt to his voice. He ran out in front of Fenris, who towered over the tiny dwarf. He was doing his best to slow the determined elf. “You’re scaring the children.” Fenris was dressed in his full spiky black armor and a heavy black coat. She could see the tips of his red wristband poking out of his sleeve.

“ _He still cared,_ _”_ she thought _._ Her lover had a deep scowl ingrained on his face. He scanned the gardens with his big green eyes. He growled stopping and staring down at the dwarvan storyteller.  

“I don’t care about the children _._ Where is _she?”_ he demanded, clenching his hands in fists. Hawke could see the veins in his forehead bulging.

“I don’t know,” Lie. Varric raised open hands fraying his innocence

“But, if you calm down, we can look for her…. _together.”_ Fenris groaned in annoyance. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed his collar. He yanked Varric up and held him close to his face. The dwarf screamed in surprise, as he hung limp in the elf’s vice grip. He flailed kicking his short legs and clawed at Fenris’s fingers. The edges of his gauntlets dug painfully into Varric’s skin. He went silent, when Fenris tightened his grip and scowled at him. The color started to fade from his face.

“You’re lying, Varric, Where is Hawke?! Tell me,” commanded Fenris, almost growling. The commotion made everyone around them stop and stare. Hawke rolled her eyes and pressed her palm to her forehead. She needed to help Varric, before Fenris tore the poor dwarf in two. She pulled up her sleeves and strode over toward the pair. Varric smirked when he saw her walk up out of the corner of his eye. Fenris raised an eyebrow, and cocked his head in confusion. She crossed her arms, and a smirk crept across her lips.

“Put the dwarf down, Fenris. Before you give him a heart attack,” she declared announcing her presence. He froze releasing Varric and dropping him to the ground. Varric landed with a soft dusty thud. He brushed off his usual red tunic and brown duster. Her gaze softened when he didn’t respond lowering his hand to his side. She moved closer placing a light hand on his shoulder. “Fenris?” When he still didn’t respond, she pulled her hand back, holding her arms close to her body.

All of sudden, he spun around in a blur of gleaming silvery armor and white hair. Before anything could register, he brought his fist up and punched Hawke square in the jaw. As the metal gauntlet made contact with her jaw, a rush of intense pain overwhelmed her. The rush sent Hawke stumbling backwards. She struggled to stay on her feet lifting her hand to her throbbing jaw. The irony taste of blood tainted her tongue. Looking up she saw Fenris standing there with furrowed brows and an intense look in his eyes, like a snarling wolf.

“What the hell, Fenris?” she spat glaring at him. She clutched her jaw and touched her bloodied busted lip. “You punched me!” she stressed. He looked her dead in the eye.

“You left me, Hawke,” he jabbed responding finally and shaking his fist at her. His other hand was shaking like he wanted to punch her again. “You left me, Hawke,” he repeated, more stern this time. “In the middle of the night. You knocked me out, and left without any explanation. I looked for you everywhere. I went all the way to Tevinter! Tevinter!” he screamed, shouting on the word _Tevinter._ To onlookers, it would have seemed inconsequential but Hawke knew what that meant. Fenris had suffered as an imperial magister’s slave for years. That experience had created his deep-seated hatred for mages and the Imperium. He hardly ever talked about Tevinter. It had taken Hawke years to get him to open up completely and stop drinking wine to help dull his pain.

“Fenris, please calm down. Let’s talk about this,” suggested Hawke, trying not to break down. _“Elsewhere,”_ she stressed. Fenris glared at her and crossed his arms.

“Yeah, Broody. Hawke’s right you're making a scene,” interrupt Varric. Fenris growled in annoyance.

“Fine,” agreed Fenris. Varric directed the brooding elf and his mage friend to the empty stone pavilion that was nestled among a hollow of trees. He placed himself in between them, so Fenris wouldn’t jump Hawke, again. He also shoed away any curious onlookers who had tried to follow. While Fenris and Hawke stood under the slate roof circling each other like hungry wolves, Varric stood guard by the entrance. He had dagger ready if things went south. He knew that they could both be _intense._  

“Fuck, my jaw,” complained Hawke rubbing her jaw breaking the silence. She noticed his angry facade momentarily drop, at the sight her pain.

“You deserved it,” he grumbled refusing to look her in the eyes and staring down at his feet.

“I’m not saying that I don’t deserve a good punch to the face, but it still hurts,” she countered touching her finger to her busted bloodied lip and using a spell to mend the wounds. There was a long uncomfortable silence between them for several long heartbeats.

“Why did you leave?” he asked piercing` the silence. The anger had faded from his voice, and it was replaced by a sense of vulnerability and disparity. Hawke ran a hand through her hair and then glanced down at the ground and back up to his face.

“I didn’t have a choice,” she managed hugging herself.

“What did you mean that you didn’t have a choice?” he growled, with a hint of angry returning to his voice. “You always have a choice!”

“The Inquisition needed my help to fight Corypheus and to free the Grey Wardens from his control. Without my help, thousands of people would have died, and the Wardens would have fallen to the darkspawn. I killed a fear demon!” explained Hawke, becoming get worked up. Her cheeks started to turn red.

“You don’t always have to save the world, Hawke,” he replied, with his eyes starting to water and hands quivering.

“If I die so others can live, then so be it,” she responded digging her nails into her palm. “Who cares if I’m dead? I started the mage rebellion, and people hate me!” At that, all of care the color evaporated from his face.

“I would care,” he said softly stepping closer until they were only a few inches apart. He cradled her cheek in his cold metal hand. She gazed up at him glassy eyed. He smiled tenderly running the scar on her nose. “I can’t live without you, Hawke.”

“I know,” she murmured “I’m sorry.”

“Oh just kiss already,” moaned Varric, leaning against the stone archway. Both of them froze in their tracks. Fenris’s face turned bright red, and immediately he took a stepped back. “Come on, Broody. Don’t stop on my account. It was just getting good. Hawke, set the kid straight.” Hawke chuckled and rolled her eyes, before shooting Varric a quick glare.

“Quiet, you,” interjected Hawke, before turning back to Fenris. “Now, Fenris.” She grinned. “Why don’t we give him a _show?”_ He cracked a small hard-earned smile, as she stepped in close to him. She could feel his breath on her cheeks.

Hawke coiled her arms around his neck, and she grabbed the base of his neck with one hand digging her fingers in his hair. In turn, Fenris wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her against him. Then, they both leaned kissing for the first time in ages. His lips were warm and soft, just like she remembered. They tasted like sweet wine. The contact was tender and passionate. Fenris held the back of her neck and pulled her closer deepening the kiss. Her hands migrated up to his hair and dug her fingers into his silver locks, scratching his scalp, and making him moan pleasantly. He moaned, while she scratched his scalp with her fingernails. There was a loud crash as one of his gauntlets fell to the ground. She had not noticed, as he had frantically fought with the straps of his gauntlet desperate to be free of the clunky metal glove. He finally delved his free hand into her hair, and his other hand moved from her hair down her back, where he caressed her bare back underneath her shirt. The feeling of the icy metal on her skin made her gasp. Fenris seized the opportunity to kiss her harder, with heated enthusiasm. Her heart was racing in her chest like a thumping war drum. They continued to kiss until Varric coughed. They begrudgingly pulled back and rested their forehead together with wide grins gracing their lips.

“Get a room you two,” he complained with a wide knowing smirk.

“Maybe, we will,” announced Hawke, grabbing Fenris’s arm. The white-haired elf smiled, and she started to led Fenris away, when Varric got her attention. “Go on ahead,” she told Fenris, whispering how to get to her room in his ear. Smiling, he nodded in agreement.

“Go get him, Hawke,” said Varric, cheering her on.

“Oh, trust me I will,” she replied, before leaving to follow Fenris off to her quarters.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment! I would love to here your feedback! :)  
> -thetravelerinatrenchcoat


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